


The Clinical

by SPowell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Medical Kink, Prostate Massage, Slight Embarrassment, Voyeurism, inappropriate hard-ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4108918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Draco Malfoy's birthday party on LJ.</p><p>Harry is a healer in training. Malfoy is paid to be the patient.</p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer: The characters herein do not belong to me. I make no profit off this endeavor, which is for entertainment purposes only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clinical

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowgall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowgall/gifts).



 

“Malfoy?” Harry stops in the doorway to Exam Room 3.

“Yes, Potter, very good. I see you haven’t lost your uncanny ability to size up a situation within seconds.”

Malfoy sits on the exam table, smirking at Harry just like he did back at school, only different. This smirk is less nasty and more…

Harry’s thinking flirtatious, but that couldn’t be right.

He shakes his head to clear it.

“What are you doing here?”

Malfoy looks down at the short, blue hospital gown he’s wearing and then back up at Potter, feigned confusion on his face. “I don’t know! Merlin--- where am I?”

“Oh, shut it, you tosser. What I mean is, I thought you moved to France with your parents.”

Harry leans against the cold steel of the table behind him, trying not to look at Malfoy’s bare legs, which are long, toned, and covered in blond hair. It's weird enough to face people paid to be examined by the healers-in-training without having one be an old foe, and the fact that Malfoy looks rather fetching in the gown only makes it all the more awkward.

“That shows how much you pay attention to the papers, Potter. No, I did not leave with my parents—I stayed. And to answer your question, I’m here for the money. You would be surprised how much they pay for this sort of thing, and I’m not exactly swimming in offers for my potions work.”

“Oh.” Harry swallows. “Sorry. That’s really not fair, Malfoy.”

“No, it isn’t. Now, can we get on with this, please?”

“Uh, sure.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “But do you think maybe, since we know each other, you’d rather not participate in this one? It may make it a bit awkward.”

“Don’t be ridiculous; I’m a professional. The question is, are you?” Malfoy crosses his bare ankles.  
  
Harry really isn’t sure how he feels about this.

The door opens and Healer Jeffries walks in. Harry’s heart sinks. It would be Jeffries—out of all the senior healers, he makes Harry the most nervous. From the moment they met, Harry’s had the distinct impression that Jeffries thinks Harry expects special treatment because of who he is, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Healer Potter, are you ready for your clinical?” Jeffries stares with cold, unyielding eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Harry says. He sees Malfoy smirking at him behind Jeffries’ back and wants to throttle him. Considering the fact that Malfoy is playing patient in this scenario, he should be the nervous one, not Harry; yet Draco appears totally at ease while Harry’s heart’s pumping double time in his chest and his hands are damp with sweat.

“All right. Go ahead,” Healer Jeffries says. “Remember, this is just as you would do were you a fully certified healer and I was not present. I am just here to observe.” He takes his clipboard from under his arm and a quill from the table before moving back to the corner and into what he probably thinks is an unobtrusive stance. Unfortunately, Harry knows Jeffries presence is impossible to forget.

Malfoy’s brows lift, and Harry clears his throat.

“So, Mr..." Harry looks at the chart that was given to him before the exam—"Tartley,” _Tartley? Really?_ “I see you’re here for a prostate exam.”

“Yes,” Malfoy says, affecting a worried tone and cringing dramatically. “I’ve been having some discomfort with it.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, I’m a gay man,” Malfoy says, obviously warming up to his role, “which means I take it up the duff.” He pauses, and Harry nods. He already suspects Malfoy’s gay—there were rumours back in their Hogwarts days,—but that he would admit to being _a bottom_ , even in jest? That, Harry finds intriguing.

“My lover is quite well-endowed, if you know what I mean,” Draco continues, and Harry feels his cheeks warm. He clears his throat.

“Yes, go on.”

“Well, when Viktor enters me…”

“Viktor?”

“Yes, Viktor Krum—you may have heard of him. Famous seeker of the…”

“Yes, I know. Go on, Mr—er-- Tartley.” Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes-- _Krum indeed_. _Malfoy wishes_. Harry happens to know that Viktor Krum is away in New Zealand with his latest boy toy.

Harry can feel Jeffries’ eagle eyes upon him, and a single trickle of sweat runs from Harry’s nape down his back.

“Yes, as I was saying, when Viktor thrusts his humungous cock into me…”

_Merlin, Malfoy’s laying it on thick, the wanker!_

“…there has been some pain, and I don’t know if it’s because of Viktor’s incredible size or something else. Hence, my appointment with you.” Malfoy bats his eyelashes, which are blond and rather long.

“All right, then,” Harry says, jotting down a few notes which he knows Jeffries will go over later, “we’ll just have the examination. You’ve already had your vitals taken, so I need you to turn and place your elbows on the examination table, feet spread apart.”

Malfoy hops down and assumes the position with alarming alacrity, even going so far as to raise the gown, bunching it about his waist. Harry struggles to keep a professional facade as he suddenly finds himself looking down at his ex-nemesis’ bare arse.

And what an arse it is. Two pale, rounded globes that would make such luscious handfuls…

“A picture would last longer,” Malfoy says, and Harry jolts. Had he been staring? One look at Jeffries’ disapproving face tells him he had.

“Yes, well.” Harry pulls on some gloves, snapping them at the wrists, trying to remember everything he’s learned. He reaches back to the table to pump some lubricant onto his fingers.

“I’m going to slide a lubed finger inside of you now, Mr Mal—er, Tartley. Er, could you spread your feet just a bit more?”

Malfoy does, jutting his arse out to an almost vulgar degree, and gives Harry a wink over his shoulder.  
  
"Would you like me to hold it open for you?" Malfoy offers, reaching back with his hands.  
  
"No, no. Not necessary."  
  
Mortified, Harry stares at the pink, furled hole a moment, cock stirring in his pants. How could he be so unprofessional? Taking a calming breath, he extends his finger and carefully inserts it inside Malfoy, angling it downward so he can rub over Malfoy’s prostate, feeling for abnormalities before moving on to swipe the pad of his finger along the rectal walls.

Malfoy makes an odd sound, and Harry stops.

“Everything all right?”

Malfoy nods, and Harry continues.

“Angle your finger a bit more," Jeffries says, and Harry does. Malfoy's thighs tremble.  
  
"Make certain you are thorough,” Healer Jeffries continues from the corner. “Even if you take a bit longer than you normally would.”

Harry moves his finger back to the triangle of nerves, pressing in.  
  
"Rub it," Jeffries says. "Get a nice feel for it."  
  
This time a shudder runs through Malfoy’s body.

“Does that hurt, Mr Tartley?”

Malfoy shakes his head. “It’s fine.” His voice is tight.

Harry feels about some more, then pushes again on Malfoy's prostate just to make triply sure that Jeffries knows he's being very serious about it.  Finally, he withdraws his finger.  
  
“Everything seems to be in order.” He takes off his gloves and lowers Malfoy’s gown. “Perhaps it would behoove you to instruct your sexual partner to be a bit more careful with you in future.”

Malfoy lowers his head; he seems to be breathing a bit hard.

“Mr Tartley?”

Malfoy nods and straightens. Harry has the unproffesional urge to swat that bottom with his hand.

Healer Jeffries’ beeper goes off.

“Meet me in my office in five, Potter. Excuse me." He leaves the room.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Malfoy?” Harry asks, regarding the stiffness of the other man’s shoulders.

Malfoy turns around. “Do I look all right, Potter?”

Harry’s eyes roam over Malfoy, from his sweat-soaked face downward. His eyes widen when they come to the obvious erection tenting the front of Malfoy’s gown.

“Oh.”

“Yes, _oh_. It seems I rather like the feel of the Saviour of the Wizarding World’s finger up my arse. What do you propose I do about it?”

Harry’s cock gives a lurch. He clears his throat, still staring at Malfoy’s groin area. Unable to help himself, he leans in and lifts the gown, exposing Malfoy’s turgid red cock to the open air.

Malfoy gasps softly.

“That looks…uncomfortable.” Harry swallows hard. “Perhaps…perhaps a more thorough exam is in order.”

Malfoy’s cock twitches and so does Harry's.

“Do you happen to make house calls?” Malfoy asks after what seems like a long moment of Harry staring at Malfoy’s cock and Malfoy staring at Harry.

Harry finally tears his eyes away.

“As a matter of fact, I do. Seven PM?”

Malfoy scribbles his address on a prescription pad and hands it to Harry before heading for the changing room.

“Oh, and Potter?” Malfoy pauses at the door. “Bring the speculum.”

 


End file.
